


It Takes One

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Crack, Fae & Fairies, Fluff and Crack, Humor, M/M, No Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 18:31:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes one to know one. Whether it's due to the mind-wipe or not, Blake doesn't know, but Avon does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Takes One

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

"Avon." This time Blake's voice hadn't the slightest hint of forgiveness,patience or even, 'I need you for the cause and so I won't strangle you on the flight deck.'

"Blake." Well, now, if he thinks vocal intimidation works, let's see how he likes 'you start it on the flight deck and I'll finish it on the flight deck'.

"Avon." This time with a sigh, and a big hand pushing back some of that uncombed mane. This time with a rueful expression which, I admit, does rather nice things to his plebian features. Farmer Blake. Salt of the Earth Blake. Atlas With the World on his Shoulders Blake. I must be tired. Usually it makes me snappish (yes, I know, nothing unusual there) but occasionally it makes me imagine impossible things. Like Blake...

"Yes, Blake?" See, I can be sweet and reasonable. Sometimes. If it suits me.

"I want to see you in my cabin. After your watch, if you don't mind."

I nod and say, "Certainly." If Blake is acting civilized, I feel I ought to encourage him. Besides, Jenna was expecting me to attack her Fearless Leader, and she was working up to attacking me back. After today's fiasco, I really don't need any more excitement. At least, not of the threat to life and limb variety. 

The flight deck is quiet once Our Lord and Master departs. Jenna fiddles with the controls just to emphasize that she's in charge when Blake isn't here. Vila naps at his position just to emphasize that she isn't. Gan just is. The man has no agenda that I can see. Boring, really. What's the point of living if you aren't thinking ahead?

And then there's Cally. Interesting, but not my type. Ethereal exterior, warrior interior. Incredible ignorance in some areas, quiet competence in others. Don't like her eyes, though. Too serene. Tempting to break that serenity, but not tempting enough when the result would probably be very messily emotional. Not to mention physically messy if she happens to have a gun within reach at the moment serenity faces reality.

Gan leaves, and Cally follows after a few moments, with a specious excuse about checking medical supplies. I don't know why they attempt to maintain pretences under the circumstances. It's just as pointless as Jenna's attempts at Blake. He is _not her type_ in letters far larger than Cally isn't mine. Wonder when Jenna will notice. I've seen Blake eying Vila, but only a little, and wistfully. Vila is absolutely off-bounds to Blake. And to me. Pity. He would be eager to please a partner, and is utterly without morals. Which can be very nice in bed.

I sigh. Only a little and under my breath, but Jenna notices and smirks. Possibly she thinks I am intimidated by the Big Bad Blake. Possibly she thinks. But I doubt it. She feels, and she _wants_. She should look to Vila for her needs. They'd suit quite well. Would it make life more pleasant for _me_ , now that is the important question? There would be less hostility from Jenna, certainly, but on the other hand their pairing would leave me and Blake obviously out in the cold. Smug looks, leading to pitying looks, leading to... well, let's just leave the status quo, shall we?

The watch passes slowly, interminably, and nothing really worth mentioning occurs until finally Jenna is at my elbow. "Is it that time already?" I say, mocking only slightly as Jenna does not need a weapon to make her displeasure felt. At least two of the London's more obstreperous prisoners are probably still walking bow-legged from her successful efforts to instill respect for womanhood in them.

"Blake is waiting," she says, gazing up at me with those bold, lioness eyes.

I cock my head to one side and consider the matter just to emphasize that I don't give a damn who's nominally in charge of anything. Then I shrug, and say, "Well, I'd best be going then," and go, casually, hands clasped behind my back.

I'm casual all the way up to Blake's door. Then I find my palms sweating, and a nervous tremor beginning in my fingers. Unacceptable. I wait until my body has realized that it isn't getting out of this by misbehaving, and submits to my will. I press the announcer. "Avon," I say, calmly and coolly, just as if we are going to discuss the breakfast menu. (Which reminds me, I must have a look at the programming for the food synthesizers. I wish I was doing it now.)

The door slides open, and Blake is there. Lying on his bed, glowering in an indecently attractive manner. I see that he has managed to access the programming to change the size of the bed. Hadn't thought the ascetic rebel-leader would bother, but then the beds were awfully narrow. A man Blake's size couldn't comfortably sleep in one of them, even alone. Even alone. I must learn to control my wayward thoughts. Next thing he'll be seeing my wayward eyes on his crotch which is lying there so openly inviting on that big bed. The crotch moves, sitting up along with Blake.

"Avon?" Pure astonishment. He's on his feet and coming at me, with a huge, incredulous grin on his, damn him, handsome face.

I back up, or at least I think I do, but somehow I'm inside the room, and my arms are going around Blake. Push, I tell my muscles, but they are like me, and do just the opposite.

Oh, hell. I know this is a mistake, but I'm doing it anyway. Blake's lips are warm and firm against mine, smelling and tasting of the brandy he's been drinking while waiting for me to come to fight with him. I don't want to fight with him, but I should, I should. I twist my head away to say, "Blake, don't," but it sounds pathetically like "Blake, yes," even to me.

"Don't what, Avon?" he says, large hands feeling their way under my tunic and down to my buttocks. Fingers slipping under the waistband. Tickling between my thighs. 

I open to him, giving in even as I say,"No."

"Yes," he replies, and leads me to the wonderfully large bed. He strips his own clothing off and then removes mine. I feel foolish. This passive acceptance isn't me, but Blake doesn't seem to mind, and that's the important thing. He's all over my naked body now, rolling me over and over on his bed, kissing and touching everywhere, everywhere, with no modesty or shame. And I am reciprocating. Every inch of Blake- and there are a lot of inches- tastes good, feels better, smells indescribably wonderful. I usually am more literate, but at the moment words would just get in the way. I kiss and I bite, and I lick and suck- nipples, balls, cock, earlobes, for god's sake of all silly things. Blake likes it all. Whatever I do to him, he _likes_.

And his hands and mouth on me are like fire. I am utterly consumed by him, literally, as he settles into position over me and wraps those marvellous lips around my cock. He holds me down and drives me quite mad. Sucking hard, and licking soft, repeating and changing tempo and touches, until my orgasm fills him.

And then he lies beside me and holds me and waits. Patiently he waits until I can open my eyes and see once more. I would suck him, too, but I am feeling generous and it occurs to me that he would probably not be able to fit all of that into my mouth. I also doubt I could hold my breath long enough to do him properly down my throat. Not now.

So I roll over and spread my legs, offering what I've not offered another man since... no, I'll not compare Blake with anyone else. I hope Blake will not choose this moment to have tedious scruples. A drawer slides open roughly, so roughly that the contents wind up on the deck. The bed shifts as Blake scrabbles after something. I smile, recognizing the multi-purpose skin lotion. Ah! It's cold, and I can't help yelping, but blessedly Blake merely laughs and continues.

And continues. Oh. Ohh. Fingers. Can't count how many. That part of my brain has gone on holiday. But there are lots of fingers teasing their way inside me. It's been a long time, but I'm not complaining as Blake's vast store of patience evidently vanishes and something approximately the size and shape of one of Liberator's weapon pods shoves between my splayed buttocks and then inside my ass with barely a pause for breath. I'm pressed down into the rumpled sheets with the creases digging into tender parts, even as Blake digs into other tender parts. He's not gentle and I revel in it. I've done it to him. I've made Blake so wild that he's forgotten all his ridiculous gentlemanly rules of conduct. He rides me hard and I buck back, giving him the resistance he craves, the opposition to overcome, the....ah. That's it, Blake. That's it, my lov...no, don't think it, don't even think it. Blake yells right in my ear, well he would do, wouldn't he? And then he bites my neck, making me jump one last time under him as he pumps me full of prime, Alpha-grade seed. I think it's still a category two crime for a man of his genetic potential to waste his semen. I must point that out to him. He does so enjoy rebelling.

If all of the rebellion were like this, I could quite get to like it myself. Blake pulls out, and he lays beside me, gathering me close. He's gone all tender again, and I allow it because I'm tired and he's warm and also this way he won't remember that he had called me in here to have me on the carpet. Better to be had in bed. I chuckle at the thought.

"What?" Blake asks.

"Nothing," I murmur, nuzzling against his neck. As I'd guessed, that shut him up. Should have done this sooner. And then I remember why I didn't do it.

Blake is happy. I've seen him happy very rarely and noticed how he behaves on those occasions. He... well... he _Whistles_. Now, this may not sound like a terrible thing to you, but you're not me.

I can't help it, I scream and fall out of bed, trying desperately to get away from the sound. Normally, I have better self-control, but to come so soon after... well, after. My nerves can't take the sudden assault.

Blake stopped whistling, of course. "Avon? For God's sake, what is it?"

I wince at the Holy Name. He didn't mean it that way, but I'm sensitised, as I said, at the moment. Normally, I can even say it and think it myself and it doesn't matter.

"Avon!" He shakes me, and this I can take.

I open my eyes, which I hadn't remembered shutting and I say, "Sorry. I'm all right now. An attack of nerves. Don't worry about it."

"Attack of nerves?" Blake is confused. It's true, in a way, but I'm sure it doesn't sound true to him. "You're shivering," he says, trying to find something he can grasp.

Yes, well, I _am_ trembling from head to foot. Nerve shock does that to me. Blake tries to warm me by rubbing, then he gets up and returns with his tunic and tries to put it on me. At first I cooperate, then I realize something is wrong. I can't help it. I scream even louder than before, twist away from the tunic he is offering me and writhe against the deck in agony.

"AVON!" Warm arms, bare body against mine, heart thumping against the pounding of mine. My panic recedes and resignation takes over. There is no way out of this except telling him the truth. I sigh and sit up, pushing Blake far enough away so that we are looking at each other.

"I'm all right. Really." I get up and sit on Blake's bed, gathering my courage. This will be difficult.

"What happened?" Blake sits next to me and begins chafing my wrists.

"Stop that," I say, irritated. "That's for fainting. And I doubt it's any use then."

Blake stops chafing, but he continues worrying.

I sigh and take him in my arms. "I have to tell you something. You aren't going to believe it, but you must."

"You've never lied to me." Blake pauses. "At least, not that I've ever caught you."

I smile, faintly. "I'm a fairy," I say, thinking to get it over with quickly.

"So? That's fairly obvious," Blake says, sounding more puzzled and less worried.

I shake my head. "I'm not referring to my sexuality. Which is bi, in case you were wondering. I- am- a- fairy." Now the waves of worry are stronger. "No, I have not suddenly gone barking mad!" I snap. "I am a fairy. I am descended from Oberon and Titania. I am a magical creature. I..." and I can see the impulse in Blake's eyes to quietly get up, call Cally and have me sedated for the duration. "Damn you, I will prove it!" And I deliberately release the concealment field over my wings. Blake's mouth drops as he stares at the rainbow gossamer glory spreading over my shoulders. I turn and let him touch them. I even shake them so the scales of 'fairy dust' rise in a cloud about him. No one who has breathed in fairy dust can doubt it.

"Avon,"he whispers and now his voice is filled with awe, which really irks me. All I ever wanted from him was an acknowledgement of equality, not elevation to semi-divine status.

"Fairy folk aren't that uncommon," I tell him. "but naturally, we are very secretive." I cast him a sideways glance. "Can you imagine what the Federation would do to us? We have far more vulnerabilities than strengths. Whistling," I said, with a shiver, "and clothing, turned inside out, cold iron, and..."

Blake was letting disbelief build up again. My wings opened and shut, and his eyes reflected the rainbow. He said, "But how... I mean... aren't fairies tiny..."

I shrugged. "A lot of us are changelings. Fairy infants are terrible brats." I smiled at him, and he seemed to believe me. "So the mothers often switch them with human babies. Human milk, human food in general..." I shrugged again. "It's magic. We don't try to explain it."

"Then why are you explaining to me?" Blake is suspicious, which is good. It means he's starting to think again. Well, as much as he ever does.

I shrug for the third time. Third time's the charm. "Normally, I wouldn't. I'd just cast a 'forget-me' spell. I'm not much on magic, but that one any of us can do. Mostly my talents lie in the area of communicating with homonculi, particularly the infinitesimally small variety who inhabit computers, which is how I am able to..." Blake is not being distracted.

"Why me?"

I surrender. Blake has his own magic, you know. When he looks at me with those sad, lost eyes... oh, well. "Because the spell wouldn't work on you," I said bluntly. "You're one of the Folk, too."

"I'm not a fairy! Well, not that kind! Am I?" Blake said, temporarily unsure of everything. Fairy dust will do that to you. It alters reality, and lets you see it being altered. Fun at parties, but a bit much for my poor battered rebel.

"No. Not that kind." I have been holding Blake all along, and my arms clench tighter around him. "You're not of the true 'fairy' breed, that is to say, an elf." I clench my teeth on that word. Fairy I don't mind, but elf just sounds so damn twee. "Your kind like iron, while silver is the only metal I can truly abide. Your kind are the engineers, the earth-movers, and shifters."

"What?" 

I doubted Blake had a classical education even before the mind-wipe, so there was no point in leading up to this by references. "You are a dwarf, Blake." I grinned. "A bloody big one, though." I patted him between his legs.

Blake was silent for a long moment, mulling it over. Then he said, touching his face, "How would I look with a beard?" Maybe he _had_ a classical education after all.

I laughed and lunged into his arms, letting my wings propel me into him."You'd look awful," I said fondly, ruffling his untameable dwarf curls, "and it would scratch." Then I kissed him into utter submission.

Or at least I thought so.

 

Wait. I forgot. This is a fairy tale and so it should end with : "They lived happily ever after."


End file.
